


monster hunting nonsense

by leftshoelace



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bathtubs, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, OR IS IT, One-sided feelings, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftshoelace/pseuds/leftshoelace
Summary: of Banquets, Bastards and Burials, except it's only the bathtub scene, except it's angstier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 53





	monster hunting nonsense

every sentence was like four individual punches to the gut.

"Do witchers ever retire?" 

_"Yeah, when they slow and get killed"_

Punch number one. It hurt to think that Geralt would just be gone one day, no word, no warning. Jaskier wouldn't even know unless news got around of the beast that killed the white wolf.

"Come on, there must be something you want once all this..." Jaskier made a vague gesture towards where Geralt sat in a tub full of Epsom salts and selkiemore organs, "...monster hunting nonsense is over with,"

And sure, Jaskier _may have been_ fishing for Geralt to say something about spending some time travelling with his bard, or settling somewhere with Roach so Jaskier could visit in the winter moths, but just because he was fishing doesn't mean he deserved to catch _that_ boot to the chest:

_"I want nothing."_

Nothing. Not even a friend.  
Punch number two stung a little more than the first.

Jaskier tried to stifle his grimace by checking at the dirt under his nails (he had chamomile and bathtub selkie smoothie trapped beneath them—he'd have to wash that out later, he was _not_ having his lute smell like rotting beast corpse) before responding to the sullen Witcher with a smile that was just a _tiny bit_ forced.

"Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there, will want _you._ " He crouched by the side of the bath so that he was facing Geralt head-on, resting his forearms against the rim of the tub. His voice had dropped a couple decibels, just above a murmur. It was softer than Jaskier had intended, and more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.

Geralt wouldn't look at him. _"I need no one,"_ voice gravelly and sincere, _"and the last thing I want is someone needing me,"_

And there were punches three and four. Straight to the gut, leaving Jaskier winded and hurt. He cast his eyes down to the bubbles in the bathwater—which at this point had just become selkiemore soup— so that he wouldn't have to fear his expression giving him away. Geralt would smell it on him anyway, of course, Jaskier just wanted to live in his little pocket of denial for as long as he could. 

"And yet," he breathed, settling his left hand on his right forearm and gripping it tightly—enough to ground himself, at least, "Here we are,"

The corner of Geralt's mouth twitched once, twice, and Jaskier took it as a smile, feeling the grip on his windpipe lessen a touch. That is, of course, until—

"Jaskier, where the _fuck_ are my clothes?"


End file.
